


Remembrance is Painful (But Ignorance is Bliss)

by Butyoucancallmemeg



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: (more like hurt/attempted comfort), Angst, Flashbacks, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 20:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5641393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Butyoucancallmemeg/pseuds/Butyoucancallmemeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d never really understood the expression “Ignorance is bliss”, but now he’s starting to think he does. They don’t remember anything that happened in that game. They don't think he does, either, so it shouldn’t matter. If none of them remember it, it will be as if it hadn’t happened at all.</p><p>“Hey, can I take you up on that Living Dead movie thing you were talkin’ about awhile back?” Jacob asks. Ezekiel agrees easily. He makes it through the first half hour or so before the bloodbath really starts, and he forgets how to breathe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance is Painful (But Ignorance is Bliss)

**Author's Note:**

> The original word document for this fic was started immediately after watching And the Point of Salvation, and it was titled "Ezekiel Jones: Cinnamon Roll". It was a rant with a plot. It's still kind of a rant with a plot, honestly. Betaed by the beautiful Youreinmyspot

When Ezekiel first wakes up, he’s disoriented. The last thing he remembers is falling - falling endlessly, for hours - or possibly days - through the empty space left by the crashing video game. He has no recollection of landing, or even of seeing the ground, but both must have happened because he’s lying on something cold and hard.

Then, quite suddenly, Eve and Jacob and Cassandra are there, yelling his name. Everything feels very wrong.

“You’re alive!” Of course he’s alive, he’s always alive, they’re the ones who keep _dying_.

“You’re back!” is the next exclamation, which makes him frown, because as far as they should know, he hasn’t even gone anywhere. Then he realizes exactly what’s wrong.

“Back?” He repeats, dazed, too busy registering that Cassandra had said something different than usual - something that wasn’t a confused, “This isn’t the Annex.” Which meant --

He did it.

He won.

… But then, why was he alive? The game crashed. He hadn’t made it.

“Where? What?” Ezekiel casts his eyes over them, searching for some sign as to what happened, but all he can see are two librarians and their guardian, alive and whole and out of that _fucking_ video game.

“You don’t remember anything?” Eve asks, chuckling as she takes in his bewildered face. He’s not quite sure how she made that leap, but he doesn’t counter it. He wishes he didn’t remember - that he, like them, was blissfully unaware of how many failures came before the success. Each failure a death, whether one of theirs or his own, made none less painful as he grew accustomed to it.

“He didn’t make it to the save point,” Jacob points out, smiling, easily accepting Baird’s theory.  It’s pretty sound logic, now that Ezekiel thinks about it, especially with the knowledge that he was the only one who remembered each level reset. From the perspective of the others, who didn’t remember each failure, it was easy to figure that he didn’t either. He wasn’t a part of the game like they were, he was the player and, being the player rather than an NPC, making it to the next save point shouldn’t have affected his memory at all, even if he didn’t make it before the crash.

He could tell them the truth. He could correct them, lord his success over them, but he can’t make himself do it. The idea of what just happened is heavy, and dark, and full of implications that he doesn’t want to deal with. He watched them all _die,_ hundreds of times each. He died hundreds of times himself, whether from being ripped apart by rage-crazed scientists or from shooting himself in the manic, irrational hope that if he was the one to die, rather than them, it would stop the reset.

(He collapsed to his knees with a strangled yell as soon as he registered where he was, that it didn’t do anything. Jacob let out an exclamation of concern, crouching down and laying a hand on his shoulder, reeling him back into sanity with that southern twang and those big, steady blue eyes, the same way he pulled Cassandra out of her synesthesia overloads. That was a fun one to explain.)

Every time he failed he felt helpless and hopeless and set adrift. It was heavy shit. The thing is, Ezekiel is the comic relief of this team. He doesn’t do heavy or dark.

“He’s an unsaved game,” Cassandra chimes in, a soft smile on her lips and light behind her eyes.

If he tells them he remembers, they’ll ask what happened. If they ask what happened, he’ll tell them. (They’ll ask how many times, and he’ll have to tell them he doesn’t know, but he lost count around three hundred). He doesn’t want Jacob to stop smiling. He doesn’t want Cassandra to lose the innocent light in her eyes. So he keeps quiet.

As someone from behind them pipes up, asking who they are and what’s going on, they all move on.

It’s something to marvel at, the ease at which they brush off everything that just happened. As quickly as they began, they’re off again.

Cassandra works on containing the weird blue Atlantis crystal (“Thaumatite,” Cassandra corrected, a slight fondness in her voice as she explained what it was, how it powered the machine. It was far more detail than he could ever need, but he liked the way she looked when she thought she was teaching him something.).

Eve makes her way through the cluster of scientists, checking everyone over, asking if they’re hurt (There was such concern on her face as she bandaged his burn that it made him uncomfortable. He told her that he was used to it, hoping to assuage her worry even though it didn’t actually get any less painful, and watched the frown deepen instead of lift).

Jacob has been waylaid by a scientist and is now locked in conversation (Ezekiel asked, apropos of nothing as he rewired the Glenn-Reeder panel, why Jacob knew so many languages. Jacob pondered this for a second, and Ezekiel thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he says, “I like culture. Art and architecture are one part of that. Another is the people - their words and stories.” The door clicked open, but Ezekiel turned around and asked what Jacob’s favorite story was. He learned that Jacob taught himself Greek so he could read the Odyssey “properly”.).

Ezekiel stands to the side, watching them all. He’d never really understood the expression “Ignorance is bliss”, but now he’s starting to think he does. They don’t remember anything that happened in that game. They don't think he does, either, so it shouldn’t matter. If none of them remember it, it will be as if it hadn’t happened at all.

**-x-**

Back at the Annex, Jenkins is safely storing the Thaumatite, talking to Cassandra, and Ezekiel is brooding. He’s never been one to get stuck inside his own head, but that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s turning memories over in his mind, almost unable to stop himself from recalling all the things they said, the things he asked, the glances exchanged. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard to shake, but every time he looks at one of them he knows more than he’s supposed to know.

Ignorance may be bliss, but right now he’s doubting his acting skills, wondering if he’ll be able to pretend that nothing’s changed when it’s becoming increasingly clear to him that they _have_.

“Did I really do all that stuff?” he asks, testing the waters.

“And probably more.” Eve confirms.

“I mean, we only remember the final loop, so who knows what else you did in there?” Cassandra posits. _I do_ , he thinks, _I know exactly what I did in there. I know every excruciating detail._ He’s almost convinced himself to tell her, to let it all spill out, when Eve comes back with a sucker punch.“You were … a different you.”

That makes him stop.

“Mature.” She elaborates, “Commanding, serious.”

“Kind of badass,” Jacob agrees. He feels a small smirk bloom onto his face. Jacob must have been impressed if he’s complimenting him like this.

“You were a hero,” Cassandra declares. He flinches, and the smirk dies. Ezekiel Jones is many things, but he’s never been a hero. He’s a thief - clever, sure, but ultimately honorless. He didn’t save the day. He failed at that - a lot - and then he died, and failed at that too.

“No.” he rejects reflexively. Then, to solidify his story, “That doesn’t sound like me.”

He knows how Jacob and Cassandra see him. He’s younger than both of them, and they see him as a punk kid - irresponsible, unable to take things seriously.

“... Meaning?” Eve prompts. Ezekiel glances at his two partners, then looks Eve right in the eye and pastes on a smile.

“You guys are just putting me on.” He accuses, “A little fun at my expense, I get it.” It’s easy to fall back on their perceptions of him, and let that paint the picture for them. Just because they’re his friends doesn’t mean it’s not a grift, like any other.

“So you finally turn into a halfway decent person, you’re not gonna own up to it?” Eve asks disbelievingly. It stings a little, but he lets it roll right off his back, scoffing. The deliberate phrasing of the question doesn’t elude him, either, but he doesn’t break under her shrouded accusation. She may have a suspicion, but she can’t know that he’s lying. Sure, she’s law enforcement, but he lies for a living. And besides, he thinks stubbornly, it wouldn’t do to confess now.

“A halfway decent person sounds like a step down from all awesome, don’t you think?” He counters instead. Eve quirks an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. She definitely doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t break.

“Well,” She says, “You may not know what you’re capable of, but we do.” She holds his gaze significantly, until he can’t bear it anymore and looks down at the Annex table, shrugging it off.

**-x-**

When Flynn begins to break the Happily Ever After spell on him, the first thing he fully remembers is Jacob, Cassandra and Eve, standing at the threshold of that _godforsaken_ doorway, as he tells them, “I’m not your friend, but you’re all my friends. You have been for - it’s impossible to explain - for so long.”

(Next comes a bunch of heists, their first job as Librarians, and somewhere there’s a rather vivid memory of bringing Jacob as backup to the Boss Battle - something he tried numerous times - but stopping him on the stairs and planting one on him, without a word, before charging into battle.)

(That one, he only tried once.)

A special agent from Interpol offers him a job, and he thinks about taking it. But he also thinks about the last round. (There are three grenades and four people,  and really, Ezekiel isn't surprised, because this is the only way it was ever going to play out. He just hoped that this time he wouldn't wake up.)

"My friends would be lost without me," he tells the Agent, and blows past.

**-x-**

Prospero has been defeated, but Eve and Flynn are both stuck in the past. Cassandra is not coping at all. Jacob is compartmentalizing. Ezekiel is … managing, but sometimes he catches himself staring off into space, thinking about all the times he watched her die, or died beside her, or listened to her tell stories. He wonders if she ever actually bought that he didn’t remember, or if she was just giving him an out.

(He wonders why she thinks he needed that out.)

When Jenkins opens the door to the locked room, and they’re both alive and well, Ezekiel wonders how many times he can cheat death before it catches up with him.

**-x-**

Ezekiel has dealt with nightmares before, sure. He had his share of shitty foster homes, and that stayed with him for a while, but he wakes up in a cold sweat for two weeks straight after Eve and Flynn get back.

**-x-**

There is an unprecedented stretch of free time after Prospero is defeated. All five of them hang around the library, or in the annex, but the clippings book does not offer them any respite from what is rapidly devolving into _boredom_ . Flynn plays with Excalibur, and Eve starts reading bodice-ripper dimestore novels, of which the Library apparently has _many_.

Jacob is writing an academic paper about architecture, which is not terribly interesting unless he starts actually talking about it - something he doesn’t want to do with Ezekiel, though will occasionally do with himself.

(They all think of him as an idiot kid, nothing but a prankster and a thief. He knows he's not as smart as they are, probably isn't as qualified for this job, but that doesn't mean he's stupid.)

It’s fun to sit across from him at one of the Annex desks and listen to him mumble over colonial motifs. Ezekiel doesn’t try to understand it, just makes sure that there’s a glass of water and a mug of coffee at his elbow at all times. Occasionally Jacob will actually take the empty cups to the sink, then look around in bewilderment when he realizes that there’s a fresh one waiting for him. He shoots Ezekiel a few odd looks, but Ezekiel just shrugs it off.

“What, you think I’m the coffee fairy now? This is a magic library, mate. Ray probably just noticed you could use the help.” He says, glancing up at the ceiling.

Cassandra is also occupying her time easily - She’s furiously researching some complicated mathematical _thingy_ that relates to … paganism? or maybe Druids? He doesn’t quite understand it enough to ask any actual leading questions, but when she starts playing with her hair in frustration, he pops up beside her with a quick “Whatcha reading?” and settles in to let her talk her way through whatever she’s stuck on. He bumps the conversation along with a periodic, “And … what’s that?” or “Wait, what?” until he kind of, sort of follows what she’s saying. He learns a lot about Druids, at least, though the math goes over his head. He might be annoying her a little (a lot), arriving at her most frustrated moments and essentially poking her with a stick. Her eyes sparkle when she speaks, though, and she always seems looser after she’s talked it all through, so Ezekiel leans in and lets it all come at him.

Ezekiel takes to brewing entire pots of tea, rather than single mugs, once he realizes Cassandra drinks the same blend. He stocks the library’s pantry with boxes of it, as well as the Starbucks Blonde Roast K-cups that Jacob prefers.

(The shiny, single-serve coffee machine had appeared one day, to Jenkins’ raised brow.

“It _is_ a _magic_ library,” Ezekiel pointed out,  hopping up to sit on one of the counters and knocking his heels against a cupboard door. Jenkins’ face displayed only a more prominent version of the same expression, but he walked off with his breakfast wordlessly.)

He’s restless - he goes to the hallway that’s full of doors, looks up at the ceiling and asks if there’s a room full of locks. Surprisingly, Ray hooks him up, finds him a room with a wall covered in chain-link fence with padlocks on every rung. Some are regular old bicycle locks, but only a few. the rest are weird - some old, some new, some simple, some mind-bogglingly complicated. He snags colored post-it notes from Jacob’s desk and sets to work color-coding them by number of chambers. Some of them don’t even have chambers, he learns quickly, and changes course, organizing them by difficulty instead. He finds one that is most _definitely_ magic, because it’s old and rusted but it works like a learning computer system, getting a little tougher to beat each time he locks and unlocks it again. Another one has twenty-seven chambers, a dial with numbers one to seven hundred fifty four, and a combination that changes each time it opens. He takes to carrying that one around, because while simple, it’s long, and he can sit still for longer when he’s got something to fiddle with.

That’s what he’s doing when Jacob closes his laptop, rubs his eyes under the frankly adorable reading glasses he’s wearing, and says, “I need a break.” Ezekiel looks up, not sure (again) whether Jacob is speaking to him or to himself. Or perhaps to the room at large. Jacob stands, stretches, takes the glasses off and sets them on top of the laptop. He looks to Ezekiel and his gaze is expectant.

“You wanna watch a movie?” Ezekiel offers, then wonders if that sounds like a come-on to Jacob the way it did to him. Jacob doesn’t seem to, though. In fact he seems to warm to the idea rather quickly.

“Yeah,” he says, “something mindless. I’ve been thinkin’ hard for too long.”

Ezekiel nods, because he can definitely see that, but also because he knows how it feels. “I’ll see what I can do.” He says confidently, leading the way to the theater room. They’re walking down the hall of doors when Jacob speaks again.

“Hey, can I take you up on that Living Dead movie thing you were talkin’ about awhile back?”

“Sure,” Ezekiel agrees easily, pushing the door to the theater room open, “I’ve got ‘Night’, ‘Day’, ‘Dawn’, ‘Land’ and ‘City’. Take your pick.”

Jacob chooses Dawn of the Living Dead, which, as far as Ezekiel can recall, is a solid choice. They settle into two side-by-side recliner chairs (because the theater room is basically just a very comfy movie theater) with one of those arm rests that can be lifted up so that couples can cuddle, with a bag of popcorn that Ezekiel dashes to the kitchen to get.

Five minutes into the movie, Jacob leans toward Ezekiel, taking over the middle armrest. Obligingly, Ezekiel gives him space  Five minutes after that, Jacob pushes it up. Ezekiel glances at him out of the corner of his eye, and leans until their shoulders are touching. Jacob shifts, lifts his arm, makes room for Ezekiel against his side.

This is new, but Ezekiel will take what he can get.

(“I’m kind of in love with you,” Ezekiel confesses. It’s easy to say it, because Ezekiel is standing behind him, can only see the back of his head, and because he knows that in the end it won’t matter. He also knows that Jacob grew up in the Jesus part of America, so when Jacob turns around and Ezekiel remembers that he’s holding a crowbar, he takes a few liberal steps back.

“What?” Jacob says, looking gobsmacked. He's shocked, but not upset.

"You heard me.")

Ezekiel makes it through the first half hour or so before the bloodbath really starts, and he forgets how to breathe.

(The first time, when they got to the exit just a split second too late, when they hadn’t figured it out yet, their screams had terrified him - made his blood run cold. Cassandra’s had been the worst, loud and piercing and _right_ beside him. She had been the first to die, the one who reset the stage.)

His chest aches, and it’s tight, like someone’s placed a hand on the center of his chest and is steadily pressing down.

(He brought Cassandra to the Boss Battle. He told her a lot of different things each time - that she was beautiful, that she deserved better than everything she was dealt, that she was the smartest person he’d ever met. His parting words were always the same, though - Don’t die before I do.)

His fingers are cold, and he feels a chill race up his spine, goosebumps forming on his arms even though it’s perfectly warm in the theatre.

(Jacob threw himself in front of Ezekiel at least a dozen times, and a few of them, Ezekiel felt warm blood spatter on the front of his shirt as one of the rage monsters brought Jacob down. The worst part was when it was only one, and Ezekiel would stand, horror-stricken as the rage man tore into him, knowing that if he was still watching, it was because Jacob wasn’t quite dead yet, still holding on even as the creature tore into him, even through the sickening crack of snapping bones.)

He’s trying to make himself inhale but his throat is tightening like he’s about to cry, and he can’t get the breaths deep enough, and on the screen there’s still _carnage._

(He tried, tried so hard to keep them safe, to get them all through alive, he had to get them _through_ this, they deserve better than him, better than someone who can’t stop failing, he’s nothing but a failure, he doesn’t even know how to _die_ right.)

He’s shaking and his heart is racing and his chest hurts and he can’t get his eyes to focus but he can still see the red on the screen, can’t stop thinking about Eve and Cassandra and Jacob and their broken bodies at his feet.

( To Eve, “I always wanted a mother,” and “You’re the hero, not me.”

To Jacob, “You care _so_ much, about everything and everyone,” and “You don’t have to be strong all the time,”

To Cassandra, “You’re the smartest woman in the world,” and “Normal childhoods are overrated anyways.”

To each of them, again and again, “I love you,” and “I don’t deserve you,” and “You deserve better.”)

“... Jones! Jones!” He’s crying - he doesn’t know when that started - and someone’s hand is on his shoulder. Someone swims into view, crouched in front of him. It’s Jacob. Ezekiel looks at his eyes, ignores the panic and concern in them and focuses on the big, blueness of them. He’s vaguely aware that his breath is coming in shuddering gasps.

“Jones, what’s wrong?” Ezekiel can’t form any words, but he knows what this is. It isn’t his first panic attack. He reminds himself faintly, over the roaring of his thoughts, that the body can only panic for a maximum of twenty minutes.

“Ezekiel, can you hear me?” He manages a nod, fists clenched, arms up close to his chest. The hand leaves his shoulder, but it’s somehow better that way. Jacob looks away, down at his phone to type a message, and Ezekiel flinches, suddenly unmoored. He looks up again quickly, though.

“Eve is on her way to us right now, Jones,” Jacob says, sounding shaken himself. Seconds later, Eve is in front of him, and Jacob has moved to the side.

“Ezekiel,” she says, voice soft and gentle, “it’s Eve, it’s your Guardian, you’re safe. You’re here in the Library with Stone, you’re not there, you’re not in danger.”

She doesn’t touch him. It’s easy to latch onto the sound of her voice and she’s saying all the right things - has probably been trained in how to say the right things. She tells him to try to match his breathing with hers, and he can’t quite hold the air there. It’s ridiculous, because it’s just breathing, and after two failures he clamps a hand over his mouth and nose for a few seconds, then forces the air out through his mouth. She counts out the seconds of his breaths, has him breathe in for four seconds, then hold for another four, then let it out for seven, nodding encouragingly as she does.

“Do you get panic attacks often, Ezekiel?” Eve asks, once Ezekiel’s breath has evened out. He shakes his head, not trusting his voice yet.

(Shooting himself in the head once, twice, three times, ten times and still not getting anywhere, the terror stealing his breath from his throat as he thinks, “Maybe I’m never getting out of here,” and that he’s doomed to watch his friends, the people he loves, die over and over again.)

(Before that, too, if he’s honest, but he’s never honest.)

“Panic attacks? We were just watching a movie.” Jacob objects from off to the left. His voice is disbelieving, but mostly full of worry - maybe a touch of guilt as well, bizarrely.

“Do you know what triggered it?” Eve asks next. Ezekiel hesitates, because he knows exactly what triggered it, and it’s exactly the thing he doesn’t want anyone to know about.

(Well, one of the things he doesn’t want anyone to know about.)

“Ezekiel?” Eve prompts, brow creasing a little, “Do you know?” He nods.

“What was it? Did-- Did _I_ do something?” Jacob asks, like he can’t keep the question back. He looks like he might not want to know the answer.

“No!” Ezekiel objects instantly, startling them all. He looks Jacob right in the eye, holding his gaze. Then, softer, he assures, “No, it wasn’t you. It was -it was the movie. The zombies.”

Eve’s eyes flutter shut at the admission. “The video game,” she bites out. It sounds a bit like an accusation, but Ezekiel doesn’t think she’s directing it at him. She knew he hadn’t forgotten, Ezekiel’s certain. She’d probably been hoping that she was wrong.

Jacob is slower on the uptake, but he gets there after a moment. “You _do_ remember it?”

He could lie again. He doesn’t.

“Yeah,” his voice is hollow in his ears, “I remember it.” He wishes he could be flippant about this - say, “Yeah, I was a badass,” and brush it off because they’re both looking at him with such pity.

“I’m fine.” He insists. When he stands, he wavers, but fists his hands at his sides and doesn’t let Eve help.

“You don’t have to be.” Jacob says. He’s wrong, because Ezekiel is already the youngest, the least educated, the least heroic, and by far the least deserving of the title of “Librarian”.

Ezekiel nods. “I know. But I am, really. It’s cool.”

When he walks out, neither follows.

**-x-**

Ezekiel wakes up with a shout at around four in the morning. He rolls out of bed, because he’s never one to fall back asleep once he’s awake, and hops into the shower. After toweling his hair off and tugging on a pair of pants, he makes his way to the kitchen to make himself some tea - or maybe snag some of that coffee of Jacob’s.

Unfortunately, when he gets there, Jacob is already leaning on one of the counters, sipping at a mug. Shit.

When he notices Ezekiel stopped in the doorway, Jacob quirks an eyebrow, and very blatantly looks him up and down. He’s bleary-eyed and damp, with hair that’s sticking up in strange ways because he only toweled it dry, and he’s not wearing a shirt. Jacob, on the other hand, looks as good as he always does in jeans and a button-up.

“You know, I actually thought to myself ‘Nah, I don’t need a shirt, nobody else will be awake at four thirty in the morning,’” Ezekiel quips, “What an idiot I am.”

“I don’t mind,” Jacob smirks. He sets his mug down. “Coffee?”

Ezekiel nods vigorously, “Absolutely.”

Jacob waits until he’s occupied with the coffeemaker and Ezekiel has hopped up to sit on the counter, then says, faux-casually, “After you disappeared yesterday, the Library mysteriously stopped its free refill policy.”

Ezekiel is thrown for a second, but quickly recovers. “You did say you needed a break,” he points out, “Maybe it was Ray's way of encouraging you to take one.”

Jacob, holding the now-full mug, strides across the room until he's practically between Ezekiel’s knees. “Could be,” he agrees easily, a small smirk on his face. He flicks his eyebrows up expectantly, like he thinks Ezekiel will confess. Ezekiel just grins, takes a long sip of his drink.

“Why _are_ you awake so early?” he asks instead. Jacob shrugs. “Early riser.” He still hasn't moved away, still is _right there_ in front of Ezekiel - who is still shirtless.

“You?” Jacob counters. Ezekiel raises an eyebrow in lieu of an actual answer - there's no way Jacob doesn't know, not after yesterday. He looks chastised for a second, then something else flashes across his face.

When he speaks, Ezekiel knows already what he's going to say. His voice is tentative and low.

“How-- How many times did-”

“I don't know,” Ezekiel cuts over him. Jacob lands a hand on his knee, probably in comfort.

“A lot.”

(Ezekiel collapsed on the crate, laughing humorlessly as Cassandra delivered her opening line. “This isn't the Annex.” she observes.

“We're never getting out of here,” He says, to no one in particular. They don't even notice him at first.)

Jacob moves another step forward, so he actually _is_ between Ezekiel's knees.

“You're probably the bravest person I've ever met.”

No. Nope - Jacob’s voice is _way_ too earnest, his eyes are too close and too blue, and Ezekiel can't have this conversation - not now, possibly not ever.

“Man,” Ezekiel quips, “you need to get out more.”

“You're also kind of annoying.” Jacob says, rocking back on his heels. He accepts easily the rejection - doesn't seem to take it personally - and _this_ is the kind of dynamic that they're used to. A playful smirk settles into Ezekiel's face.

“I _am_ a man of many talents. I'll add that to my list of superpowers.”

“Next to never knowing what you're doing?” Jacob teases. It's a callback to an older conversation, one that Ezekiel didn't even remember until now. He likes remembering them before the game.

“Of course,” He replies, “Why do you think I took this job?”

Jacob’s other hand lands on Ezekiel’s other knee. “I figured you were running from something, same as me.”

Ezekiel searches his face, looking for some sign of what Jacob’s thinking.

(“You heard me.” Ezekiel says, all bravado. Jacob’s grip tightens on the crowbar. Ezekiel notices, takes another step back. Jacob frowns. “What are you doing?”)

Jacob’s gaze drops down to his lips.

(“You’re from Oklahoma,” Ezekiel says, “and I’ve been hit for less.”)

“All right, Cowboy,” Ezekiel says, leaning forward, “Don’t hit me for this.”

(A loud clang echoes off the walls as the crowbar hits the floor. Jacob closes the space between them in quick strides. He’s fixing to have a conversation about this, it’s clear in his eyes, but Ezekiel has always been a man of action. When Jacob’s within arm’s reach, he grabs the front of his shirt, pulling him in.)

Jacob meets him halfway.

Both of their coffees grow cold on the counter, forgotten.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Love to Katie AKA Youreinmyspot for the Beta and for encouraging me to post this at all.  
> Megasonicteenagedwarhead on Tumblr, Butyoucancallmemeg everywhere else.


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